


A Stark Contrast

by wolfzaa



Category: Sons of Liberty (TV)
Genre: Bro Kissing Bro™, Historical Inaccuracy, History Channel Canon, M/M, Pre-Canon, Sorry Not Sorry, of sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-12 03:33:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11153379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfzaa/pseuds/wolfzaa
Summary: Before the revolution, they were only ordinary men living their lives.They were a stark contrast of logical thoughts and primitive urges, a rational mind and a passionate heart.  Warren didn’t dare find a word to describe what they exactly were to each other; Sam didn’t think they needed to.





	A Stark Contrast

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this story happened only because the show gave me...materials. Idk. They just seemed to understand each other better than anyone in the show and their chemistry was just??? Like they had history together??? I don't know. I don't even know what just happened and this is NOT AT ALL historically accurate, so please, bear with me.
> 
> In other words, Ben Barnes and Ryan Eggold just ruined my life. There. I've said it.

 

 

_Before the revolution, they were only ordinary men living their lives._

 

* * *

 

 

Sam wasn’t supposed to feel so familiar with the surroundings he was waking up in; he did it still.

The man let out a soft grunt yet didn’t move.  He recognized the room instantly as a sharp, clean smell hit his nostrils, mixing with faint scent of herbs that couldn’t belong to any house in Boston but one.  Sam tried to recall what happened before his world turned dark and failed miserably; it wasn’t important anyway.

“You’re up.”

A familiar voice greeted him in half-exasperated, half-amused tone.  Sam smiled; then greeted back hoarsely, “Hello, Joseph.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Numb.  Especially around…” He circled his finger over his chest, face all scrunched up.  The more he felt awake, the more pain seeped gradually into his system.  His mouth and cheeks hurt every time he formed out a word. “What happened?”

“Should I know?” Dr. Joseph Warren asked dryly as he approached the bed.  He wasn’t wearing his usual all buttoned up; only a shirt and casual breeches.  Sam couldn’t make out if he was wearing boots or not. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you much, Mr. Adams, except for dozens of glass shards in your torso.  You were bleeding all over my doorstep last night.  Do you want me to guess what happened?”

“There was only me?”

“No.  You carried a man all the way here and told me to look after him.” Joseph rolled his eyes and added, “He was knocked out somehow.  I’ve already had men took him home.”

Sounded very much like two drunkards having a bar fight, as simple as that.  Sam hummed in acknowledgement as Joseph dropped himself beside his patient; his face was non-committal, giving Sam nothing about his condition, but Sam knew he must look like shit -- the state in which Dr. Warren must be so used to by now.  Sam shifted slightly in discomfort and laughed internally when he found Joseph had stolen away his boots.  Of course, the doctor would never allow such things in his bed.  Sam didn’t have to pull the blanket over to look at his shirt; surely it was all new and clean and supposedly Warren’s--- and if the doctor had been generous enough yesterday, his breeches must be new too.  It was unlikely of Warren to let him sleep in bloodstained clothes.

“I guess I owe you again,” Sam muttered.  Joseph sighed in response, which causing the other man to smile even more. “You sigh the same way as Betsy.  This is ridiculous,” he murmured. “Sorry for the trouble.”

Joseph glanced down at him.  His blue eyes softened as he placed his hand on Sam’s shoulder.

“You are not a disappointment; not to her,” he said as though he could read Sam’s mind, “But she’d be worried.  And to be honest, I’m tired of suturing your wounds, at this point.”

Sam chuckled lightheartedly.  Joseph might be the only man in the world he allowed himself to mention Elizabeth; the physician had been there enough to see the best and the worst of Samuel Adams Jr.  The best was yet to come and the worst was when Elizabeth’s heart forever stopped beating.  Joseph had seen every scar on his body; those with honors, those without, and simply everything Sam never thought he would let anyone witness.  He had nothing left to hide at this rate.

“I’m sorry,” Sam repeated quietly.  He glanced around and noticed he wasn’t on a patient bed downstairs, but the one kept deep in Joseph’s private space.  Sam shook his head, whispering, “You’re too kind to me.”

“I’m a physician, Sam.  It’s my duty to treat an injured man.”

He arched his eyebrow. “Here in your private room, of all places?”

Joseph didn’t answer; his lips pressed together into a thin line as his eyes were fixed on the far wall of his room.  Sam stared at him for a while, waiting until he was sure Joseph had prolonged the silence on purpose, to avoid his question; before he reached out to Joseph’s wrist, fingers barely touching the uncovered skin of the doctor’s arm.

Joseph finally gave in.

“You can do so many, many great things, Sam.  You have powers to,” Warren said with another long sigh. “Just promise me to be more careful.  Redcoats are more aware of your presence lately and I don’t think that’d be pleasant.”

“I haven’t done anything,” the patient protested. “They’re all delusional.”

“Are they?”

“I don’t have such powers,” Sam pointed out.  His fingers dug harder into Joseph’s wrist, leading the doctor to lean closer into his touch. “You guys are ridiculous, both you and my cousin.  What do Redcoats want from a simple drunk like me, hmm?”

“Is being more careful too difficult for you?”

“Joseph…”

“Samuel.”

Their eyes met.  Sam rested the case, eventually.  With fingers entirely wrapping around Joseph’s wrist now, he tugged the man closer and said, “You are too good in drawing guilt out of a man.”

“It’s called being sensible.”

Sam arched his brow, smiling. “Or you’re just better at pretending.”

The other man narrowed his eyes.  Sam could see the blues flickered in flame for the briefest moment before Joseph leaned in to brush a dark strand of hair out of Sam’s eyes.  He didn’t linger the touch; instead, he locked their eyes together.  For a moment Joseph glanced down to check those chapped lips out and so did Sam.  For a moment, Sam pushed himself up and kissed the physician without even moving.

Joseph breathed out slowly.  Nobody had ever done it like Sam; with his eyes as dark as the shade of black powder, eyes that could easily kiss the life out of someone and burn into their skin without having physical contact.  Sam tightened his grip and Joseph needed to swallow back the feeling of being pushed down to the mattress and refused to avert his gaze.

Sam’s grin widened.  Joseph should have been used to it by now.

Sam’s prowess wasn’t something to be underestimated, even though he was an ordinary thug who carried no gold or silver but a mug of beer, and his name meant nothing to British statesmen more than a house of destroyed Land Bank.  Being a thug wasn’t the problem.  Being Sam, however, was another story.  Joseph had been worried when the reckless bastard chose the profession of a tax collector over a brewer, and his worries lived until this day.  The career only took Sam into broad daylight as he was born to be the sun itself; Sam was born to be the center of every man in Boston -- only if he would just take one step further and claim his rights -- and that would definitely attract the governor’s attention.

Joseph was scared for him; and fascinated to his heart’s content at the same time.

He didn’t know how the man did it.  Sam could effortlessly make someone fall for him in no time, both men and women, openly and secretly.  Elizabeth was undoubtedly the luckiest woman in the town of Boston.  Joseph knew Sam had never loved anyone ever again after her loss.  He never looked for another partner and wouldn’t get married again anytime soon.  Though, he was quite surprised Sam had never miscalled him for Elizabeth in the heat of the moment they sometimes shared together.

They had never talked about it.

“Can I have a drink?” Sam broke the silence, snapping the doctor out of his own thoughts.  Joseph took the desperate hint in his tone and rolled his eyes in disbelief.

“You can’t even get up on your own and you’re calling for booze?  Have you ever read a book about what alcohol could do to a man’s body?”

“Nope.  Never read it myself,” Sam snorted. “My dear cousin had read it to me one time, though.  I bet he’d paid for the writer to publish that one just to humiliate me.”

“Drunk.”

“When have I not?”

“You are so…”

“Charming?”

“Unbearable.”

Sam barked out a laugh. “Joseph, Joseph, Joseph,” he muttered, “Oh, my dear Dr. Warren.”

“Shut it.”

“Make me.”

Joseph growled in the back of his throat; he kissed him nevertheless.

He did it out of sheer frustration and annoyance, nothing more.  Sam ignored him anyway and took control the first chance he got, deepening the kiss despite Joseph’s initial plan.  The doctor did his best not to lean his weight on the wounded man too much yet it was getting harder every second.  Sam’s stubble cut into his chin as the kiss went on in the most maddening way.  He could feel Sam’s body shook in laughter and decided that the bastard was the most infuriating man he had ever met.

In the meanwhile, Sam let his instinct do its job.  He did everything he felt right and never looked back, never regretted it.  The world was harsh and he had no time to regret his actions.  He was just an ordinary man living an ordinary life, nothing more, nothing less.

Sam never regretted Warren.

Joseph held back as best as he could while Sam kissed him with everything he got.  They were a stark contrast of logical thoughts and primitive urges, a rational mind and a passionate heart.  Joseph wished Sam could be more sensible; Sam hoped he would never be.

Alas, Joseph gave in.  Just when the heat began to rise up between them that Sam let out a sharp whine like an injured animal, and it slapped Joseph in the face.  The physician abruptly backed away, face paled at the sight of red spots on Sam’s bandaged chest.  Sam shot him a far too pleased grin as he sat up in spite of his condition while Joseph glared at him incredulously.

“I truly don’t know why I let you in here in the first place.”

Sam’s eyes gleamed with amusement as he scoffed, “We’re the same kind of guys, Warren.  You can’t hide it from me.”

“I’m not---”

“Don’t you think I haven’t noticed those scars on your knuckles,” Sam cut him off with a smirk. “Don’t you think I have no idea how much you want to punch Redcoats in their faces sometimes -- many times, even.  Admit it, Joseph.  You’ve never agreed with any of them.  You’re not that tamed and never will be.”

The doctor avoided his gaze and didn’t answer.  Sam let him.  He knew that eyes all too well and he knew Warren wouldn’t admit it for as long as his patience allowed him to.  It wouldn’t take him long, though.  Sam just knew it, as well as everything he knew about Joseph.

They were a stark contrast; yet the perfect resemblance of each other.

Warren didn’t dare find a word to describe it.  Sam didn’t think they needed to.  They were friends.  They were something else.  They were nothing more.  They were everything in between.  They needn’t tell anyone and anyone needn’t know about it.

Before the revolution, they were neither leader nor martyr; only ordinary men living their lives.

 

Without reasons, Sam pulled Joseph into another kiss; this time, the doctor complied.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is non beta and English is not my first language, so sorry for any error you might see here. Kudos and comments are always welcome. Thanks for reading! :D
> 
> (Btw, Thai version [หาอ่านได้ทางนี้เลยค่ะ](https://writer.dek-d.com/wolf-zaa/writer/viewlongc.php?id=1197067&chapter=74))


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